


The King and His

by uzumaki_rakku (fuurin_senpai)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Historical Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Friendship, Gen, History-typical violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loyalty, attempted regicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23393773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuurin_senpai/pseuds/uzumaki_rakku
Summary: [AU, greatly influenced/inspired by Asian historical dramas]It began like any other story: with a hero thrown into a mess.A great tragedy had befallen the land. The king and queen were dead, killed in a terrible calamity, leaving one person who could inherit the throne: their only child, a young prince who had just reached his thirteenth birthday.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	The King and His

**Author's Note:**

> You won't believe how long I've been sitting on this draft.
> 
> Also, uh, expect to see many historical drama clichés ahead? Ahaha.

It began like any other story: with a hero thrown into a mess.

A great tragedy had befallen the land. The king and queen were dead, killed in a terrible calamity, leaving one person who could inherit the throne: their only child, a young prince who had just reached his thirteenth birthday.

There was absolute chaos as the government fractured into multiple factions which fought against one another for power. As everyone around him sought to take either his life or his authority, the prince was forced to flee the court before he could ascend the throne.

Only a few noble clans had remained entirely neutral in the power struggle. One of the oldest clans took the prince in and gave him sanctuary, much to the delight of the little clan heir who followed him around talking a mile a minute. But before long, word had gotten out about the prince’s location, and he chose to leave before he could bring disaster upon the household that had so kindly given him shelter.

“You really don’t have to leave,” the elderly clan head told him, but the prince was resolute.

“I’ve already lost my family,” he said. “I can’t cost him his.”

The old man sighed sadly, but nodded his head. “Where will you go?”

The prince reached inside the collar of his shirt and pulled out a slender chain, upon which hung a small object glowing with a familiar, silvery-white light.

A pendant, crafted from the fragments of a legendary blade.

The elder drew in a deep breath. “I thought it was completely destroyed,” he said.

The prince smiled. “I kept a piece,” he replied, slipping the necklace back inside his clothes and pulling on a hood to hide the distinctive golden colour of his hair. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I’ll be back when it’s all over, I promise.”

With those words he left, slipping out from a secret passageway and fading like a shadow into the night.

-

The silver-haired young general received the news immediately after his hard-fought victory over the northern invaders. The king and queen had been like family to him, taking him in after his father’s suicide, never bearing any resentment for how the disgraced former general had cost them a critical victory in the previous war.

“What happened to the prince?” he asked urgently, and his heart stopped for a moment when the messenger shook his head.

“His Highness is missing. Some suspect that he may be dead, and an emergency government has been formed in the capital. They are calling for you to return immediately - ”

“No.”

The messenger stared at him. “Sir?”

“We will not be returning to the capital just yet,” he said, swiftly gathering up his things and shooting a quick look at the guards, who stepped forward to escort the messenger out. “Please convey my sincere apologies to the ministers for the delay.”

“But, sir,” the messenger protested weakly, aghast at being made the bringer of terrible news. “How am I supposed to explain this to them?”

“Tell them I got lost on the road of life,” was all the general said in reply.

He strode out of the command tent, his subordinate officers immediately going alert and gathering around him, sharp and attentive despite their exhaustion.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, but we need to move,” he said shortly. “The King and Queen are dead, and the Prince is missing.” He paused to let the news sink in, watching as shock and dismay rippled across their faces before being replaced with stoic professionalism.

They were very good soldiers. He had trained them well.

“The royal line is down to a single heir,” the general continued. “He may be a child, but he is still the only one who can stabilize the kingdom in its current state of chaos. It is our duty to protect the rightful king.”

His hand drifted to the sword at his side, a gift from the previous king to replace his father’s broken blade.

“I need to find the Prince before he is taken hostage, or worse, assassinated,” the general declared, his odd-coloured eyes – one dark grey, and the other crimson – glinting with grim determination. “And I need people with me, because it won’t be easy and I can’t do it alone.”

He surveyed the gathered crowd as he spoke, briefly meeting the eyes of each person in turn. “However, there is something you need to know: should we fail in our mission, there will be no escaping the consequences. History is written by the victors, and whichever faction wins out in the end will have us go down as traitors, the names of our families disgraced forever.”

A faint smile of self-deprecation briefly passed his lips.

“I stopped caring about such things many years ago, but I understand that some of you may not feel the same way. You may also have concerns about how your families will be affected. So, if anyone would like to back out, now is the time to do so.”

He waited, but not a single one of them moved.

The young general nodded, and began issuing a rapid-fire chain of orders.

His soldiers were brave, resilient and loyal, ready to follow him into even the direst of situations. He was proud of them.

-

The girl was helpless to do anything as soldiers dragged her parents away. The military had surrounded the city hours ago under orders of the minister of warfare, who claimed that “rebel forces” amongst the people had kidnapped the prince and were holding him hostage. After soldiers had searched every house they could enter and found no sign of the missing prince, the minister had moved on to more drastic measures. He ordered his men to seize any persons who appeared suspicious and line them up in front of the city wall, where they were tied in a row and forced to kneel on the ground.

“The future of our country is at stake,” the minister proclaimed, his hawk-like eyes glittering coldly as he cast his gaze upon the terrified populace. “If no one will step forward and reveal where His Royal Highness is being held, then I will be left with no choice but to interrogate these insurgents until I get the truth. You have twenty minutes.”

Tears ran down the girl’s cheeks as she watched her parents struggle hopelessly against their bonds, but the minister’s cruel words filled her with a burning fury. She hated how easy it was for those in power to carelessly tread on the lives of those beneath them, and how helpless the common people were when they became the pawns in someone else’s power struggle.

A flash of gold at the corner of her vision disrupted her thoughts. She looked in its direction and saw a small figure making its way along the roof of a nearby house, crouched low and clad in a dark cloak that blended into the roof tiles beneath its feet. The hood of the cloak had slipped for a moment, and the girl found herself staring into a pair of bright blue eyes.

Blue eyes and golden hair, both distinctive traits of the previous king’s appearance. The girl opened her mouth, but the prince shook his head before she could utter a word. He pulled the cloak closer around him and continued moving towards the edge of the roof, then nimbly shifted himself from foothold to foothold until he landed noiselessly on the ground. He looked at her again, then at the wall of soldiers preventing him from advancing undetected, and grimaced.

The girl drew in a deep breath, pointed in the opposite direction, and shrieked.

-

In the confusion that followed that scream the prince was able to slip behind the guards and into a tiny door hidden in the city walls. It was one of the many secret passageways the general had pointed out to him two years ago, when the royal family had visited the place. He had nearly gotten himself lost several times in the hidden paths and tunnels, but each time the general had found him just as he was beginning to feel afraid.

The pathway he entered lead to a flight of stairs, which would take him to the viewing platform at the top of the city wall, overlooking the gates and all that stood before them. He ran up the steps as fast as his legs would take him, fearing that he might be too late to stop what was about to happen below.

The prince reached the viewing platform and sprinted to its edge, flinging off his cloak before screaming at the top of his lungs, “ENOUGH!”

The soldiers stationed atop the city wall quickly overcame their bewilderment at the unexpected appearance of their prince and formed a semicircle behind him, uncertain of whether to point their weapons at his back or sheathe them and kneel.

“In the name of the king, I order you to release these people and stand down,” the prince cried out, turning briefly to fix his fiercest glare at the soldiers behind him. “Minister, what is the meaning of this?”

“Your Highness,” the minister gave a bow that was just shallow enough to be mocking. “What a relief it is to see you are well.”

The prince was in no mood to play those games with the old war-hawk. “Release these people now,” he repeated. “They have committed no crimes.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Your Highness,” the minister said smoothly. “But these people are rebel forces who have attempted to cause chaos in our country by kidnapping you and using you as their hostage.”

“Do I look like a hostage to you?” the prince snapped. “Cut the nonsense right this instant and do as I command.”

“There is a problem, you see,” the minister said, unfazed by his words. “I am an old man, and my sight is not what it once was. I cannot be entirely sure from where I am that you are not being influenced by anyone to act as you do, and issue these commands. It would be a great mistake if I was to let these rebels go before I am able to confirm the truth of the situation, don’t you think?”

The prince grit his teeth. “Very well then, come up here and see for yourself,” he said.

“A thousand apologies, Your Highness, but I have reason to believe that there are insurgents hidden from view in the city walls, ready for an ambush when I ascend these steps,” the minister countered, as glib as ever. “As the minister for warfare, I currently hold the seal that grants authority over most of our country’s armed forces. However…”

He paused delicately, but the prince simply glared down at the man until he continued speaking.

“If these insurgents were to attack me the moment I am within their reach, and then – heaven forbid – take _your_ life as well so they can frame me for that unforgivable crime… They would gain the royal seal, and with it, uncontested power over the military.”

The threat in those words was clear. With the line of succession eradicated, whoever held the royal seal would hold the entire country in his hands. Compliance with the minister’s demands had only two outcomes: at worst he would be killed, at best he would become a puppet king. To give himself up was unthinkable, and yet…

What kind of king would he be if he let innocent people die for his sake?

He turned, and headed towards the stairs that would take him back to ground level. The soldiers hovered around him, uncertain of what they should do.

“Sire,” one of them spoke up, and the prince paused. “Please be careful.”

To their surprise the prince smiled. “I won’t die for nothing,” he said calmly. “And I don’t plan to die here, either.”

He just hoped he had stalled long enough.

-

“Well?” the prince questioned coldly as he stood before the aged minister. “Are you satisfied?”

“Perfectly, Your Highness,” the minster replied. “Please forgive your humble servant’s deficiencies.”

“Now do as I ordered,” the prince said, and was instantly suspicious when the minister complied without further protests.

He waited until all the civilians had been released before continuing with his next command. “Hand over the royal seal.”

“Your Highness,” the minister said. “Surely that would not be necessary just yet.”

“I have tolerated your insolence for long enough,” the prince’s eyes flashed with anger. “What justification do you have for such insubordination?”

“Only the good of the country, Your Highness,” the minister replied. “I regret to say this, but it is my belief that the root cause of our country’s troubles lies in the royal line.”

The prince ignored the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Is that so?” he said. “Explain yourself.”

“When our country went to war against our invaders, the king always chose to fight in defence, and end the conflict with _peace treaties,”_ he spat out the words like they disgusted him. “He chose peace over power, even though what we _should_ do is to take the war to its proper conclusion by eradicating the enemy. This country could be an empire, if only he had the ambition to make it so!”

“Do you really believe that?” the prince asked quietly, but was ignored.

“I will not stand by and let you continue your father’s weak way of ruling,” the minister barrelled on, years of pent-up resentment finally showing through the cracks in his glib façade. “The future of this country lies in expansion, in conquest. I cannot hand over control of our armies to a mere boy who will let his soft heart bring us all to ruin!”

“Are you going to kill me?” the prince asked, and saw a ripple of unease pass through the ranks of the soldiers surrounding them.

“Regicide is a crime that not even the best of intentions can justify,” the minister replied, his dark eyes cold and merciless. “I will, however, compel you to act in the best interests of the country.”

At a motion of his hand, one of his officers came up bearing a tray with two items on it: a dagger, and a cup of wine.

“You may choose how best to achieve that end,” the minister said.

The prince stepped forward, eyes blazing with fury, and hundreds of archers immediately trained their arrows upon him.

“You’ve been growing your personal army for some time,” he remarked. _“His_ prolonged deployment at the north must’ve been a great convenience to you.”

The old minister did not deny it, but only looked on in calm anticipation at the two choices he had offered.

There was no escape from that situation, the prince knew. The minister had come prepared – the army he commanded was more than enough to lay the entire city to ruin if he wished it so, and because of that he had the prince at his mercy.

Alone and unarmed, there was nothing the prince could do.

He slowly reached a hand towards the items offered to him. His fingers ghosted over the cup of poisoned wine, and a wry smile briefly passed his lips. “Surely I’m still too young to drink,” he quipped, and picked up the dagger.

There was suddenly the sound of thundering hooves. A figure clad in silvery-white armour came charging in on horseback, cleaving through the army’s ranks and heading straight for its leader. With one smooth arc of his blade, the traitorous minister’s head parted from his body. The silver-haired general grabbed the severed head by the hair, and turned his ice-cold stare upon the stunned, leaderless troops.

Many of them surrendered on the spot, throwing down their weapons and begging for mercy from the most fearsome warrior in the land. Others who continued to fight were cut down or captured by the general’s own army, riding in soon after the arrival of their commander.

The general sheathed his blade and sank to one knee in front of his prince. “Your Majesty.”

With the general still holding the severed head in his hand, the two of them looked almost like a morbid re-enactment of a cat bringing its owner a dead mouse.

“You know,” the prince said dryly. “I prefer your hunting gifts.”

The general cast the head a look of deep disgust and flung it to the side, where it bounced several times before rolling away. Several of the captured soldiers screamed and cowered away as it came near them.

“I prefer when you use your own weapons,” he retorted, looking pointedly at the dagger in his prince’s hand.

“Oh,” the prince said, and dropped the dagger onto the ground.

The general opened his mouth, about to make some dry remark to lighten the mood, but the prince suddenly ran forward and flung his arms around the young man’s neck, holding onto him for dear life.

“I’m sorry I almost didn’t make it in time,” the general said, returning the embrace. He suddenly realised that his hands were shaking.

The prince smiled. “I knew you’d find me.”

**Author's Note:**

> The girl in the crowd is Sakura, and she will be a recurring character when I eventually continue this. Sasuke? Sasuke who?
> 
> Well! That was an extremely self-indulgent historical drama-style story, huh... It was fun to write, and I hope you liked it. <3


End file.
